PostModernQuill Unbound.https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com
Fighting, Fucking and Fiction.
Thu, 21 Feb 2019 07:32:51 +0000 en
hourly
1 http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/87399a01b305b7f923e9da21795f3784?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs0.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngPostModernQuill Unbound.https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com
Jared’s Prodigyhttps://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2019/01/06/jareds-prodigy/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2019/01/06/jareds-prodigy/#commentsMon, 07 Jan 2019 03:28:47 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5382There’s a new movie coming out called The Prodigy and the trailer reminded me of a fan-ficcy I played with for a min or two….lets revisit that for a moment and then go see the movie….

Meet Jared & Lucy….

They had no idea, on that bright sunny morning, that the birth of their first child, a son they named Noah Joseph, would open the door for such unbelievable heartache.How could they?

Lucy’s labor was predictable.The birth, smooth. And she was recovering well.Within an hour or two she was up and about. Shuffling her slippered feet back and forth from the bathroom to the layette to her hospital bed again without complaint. She felt well enough to shower and now the happy couple were receiving their first visitors.

The perfectly pink full-term boy was exceptionally alert for his first hours on earth. Delighting well wishers with his big blue eyes that seemed to focus intently on each relative as though he recognized each and every one of them from some other time and place.

“He’s probably fixing on the reflection coming off your glasses. He can only see a few inches in front of him right now.”Jared said as he held his arms out to receive Noah.“That’s your Uncle Raj.” Jared whispered to Noah once he had him snuggled in the crook of his arm again. “He was born yesterday and you were born today.” he teased.

Lucy watched Jared show Noah around the room. Beaming with pride at their creation.Their friends and loved ones leaning in to peek at Noah’s bright face or cradling him for a moment in their own arms.Jared either had Noah or a bottle of hand sanitizer in his hands.Ready with a squirt for anyone who wanted to so much as touch the blanket Noah was bundled in.Protective new Pop.Lucy felt her love for Jared grow deeper in those moments there.She had made him a Daddy. And he was good at it. So far at least. It was a special morning for everyone.Jared’s first child, a son no one ever thought he’d have. Born almost 9 months to the day after Jared married Lucy on a cliffside in Capri.She’s almost 20 years Jared’s junior but his equal in many other ways.A career of her own.A name too.

Every one who held Noah that morning commented on his beauty.A perfect blend of his model mother and his handsome Oscar winning father.Blue eyes.Bright blond tuffs of hair.Pink skin.Amazing temperament.

“Does he ever cry?” someone asked kindly.

“He’s just chillin’”

“My kinda kid.”

“You would end up with a baby that never cries wouldn’t you?”

“He’s an old soul.” Grandma Constance added and everyone agreed.

What a blessed addition to the world.Ten fingers, ten toes.A life full of promise and good health just waiting for him.Jared and Lucy were so proud.Look at what their love created.A perfect little boy.That everyone is immediately in love with.

Lucy yawned big and then quickly laughed at herself.“Sorry guys.” she said through a smile. “It’s not you, it’s me.” more giggling “I haven’t slept in like three days.”

Grandma took Noah from the arms of one of the couple’s friends and placed him softly into Lucy’s outstretched arms.“I think he might need lunch and then you both should rest.” she said kindly.

Everyone took the cue and shuffled out of the room with pats on Jared’s back and well wishes to Lucy.Once everyone was gone, Constance helped Lucy get reading for the feeding, propping a pillow beneath her elbow and a pillow at her waist..Jared stayed back, watching the girls bond over Noah’s first latch.It was a sight to see.So precious.

“Ouch.” Lucy said as Noah latched on “Is it supposed to – Ouch! ….hurt?”

“Sometimes it’s because they latch on wrong … let’s try and reposition him.”Grandma Constance slipped her finger in to the side of Noah’s mouth to break his suction and his eyes snapped up at her as if he were chastising her.Constance was taken aback for a moment, not quite sure what in the hell she just saw.As quickly as the expression appeared, it disappeared and Constance scolded herself for assigning such a grown-up expression to the face of a newborn. He wanted his boobie back.That’s all.She gently repositioned Noah’s head and he latched back on to Lucy.But she couldn’t stop thinking about that quick shift in his eyes.Too weird.Too grown up.

“That’s a lot better.” Lucy sighed looking down on her boy. “Thank you.” She said before she looked up at Constance.

“Are you ok?” she asked Constance a moment later. “You’re white as a sheet!”

“Oh! I’m fine. Maybe I need a little rest too. I’m seeing things.”

“Seeing things? That’s not good.” Jared joked.

Constance shook her head as she spoke, fully aware of how nutty her words sounded “I think Noah was just mad at me…”

“What?” Lucy responded. “Mad at you?”

“Yeah Ma.I think you do need some sleep. He’s not mad at anyone.He’s like six hours old.”

“He gave me this look….”

“Sure he did.” Jared ushered his mother over to the couch in their hospital suite.“Maybe you should take a nap too.”

“Yeah.”

Lucy starred down at the bundle in her arms and watched him feed. His eyes were shutting slowly and her nipple was falling out of his mouth.In a moment he was fast asleep with a full belly.

“Do you want me to put him in the bassinet so you can sleep?” Jared whispered.

Lucy nodded quietly but when he went to grab Noah, Noah’s eyes flipped open quickly and he let out his first cry.A painful wail that upset everyone all at once.

Lucy weighed 94 pounds at her 6 week post-delivery checkup and her doctor was alarmed.

“Noah is quite the handsome little man isn’t he?” the doctor said as he kindly stroked the back of Noah’s head. “Just beautiful…but my dear what is going on with you? You’re gaunt….and 94 pounds.That’s not a healthy weight for a new mother.Especially not one who is breast feeding.”

Noah was alert and checking out the examination room from over Lucy’s shoulder.“I eat all day long.” she said as she shifted the baby from one shoulder to the other.

“We have a professional chef at the house.” Lucy said defensively “Lots of vegetables and I eat pasta….Lentils….fried rice.Healthy stuff.He makes me extra meals during the day because I am always so hungry. ”

“I assume you’re still Vegan?”

“Yes, but I get ample protein.I’ve been Vegan for twenty years.I know how to eat.”

“It doesn’t look like you are getting enough of the right foods required to maintain a healthy weight. How often is the baby feeding?”

“Every two hours. Give or take…”

The doctor’s line of questioning was insulting, as if Lucy didn’t know how to take care of herself, but Lucy wasn’t exactly upset. Defensive, but not angry. She knew her weight loss was dramatic and probably shocking to someone who last saw her when she was super preggo.It was understandable.And Lucy had to admit that she felt like complete shit lately.The weight loss was taking a toll on her, even though she was pretending for everyone else that it was a blessing to “pop back” to her old self so quickly.No one really knew she was 15 pounds lighter than she’d ever been.

Lucy didn’t blame her Vegan lifestyle for the weight loss though.It’s something else for sure. Lucy has been eating like a pig at a trough for weeks.Never seeming to go more than twenty minutes without feeling like she is going to starve to death if she doesn’t eat again…like immediately.She can’t get enough food in her, that’s the problem.

As the conversation continued, Lucy actually began to appreciate the doctor’s concern.It validated her own feelings and made her feel important again. Being Noah’s Mommy was a lot harder than she had anticipated.He’s high maintenance but she loves him. It’ll be better once he starts sleeping through the night.She’s sure of that.And once she’s not so tired anymore maybe she can get in to some sort of routine again where she’s out in the world instead of house bound.She’s lonely and kinda resentful of all the attention Noah gets from Jared.Attention that used to belong to Lucy and Lucy alone.

“I’d like to do some blood work but I’d also like you to eat some meat.” the doctor was saying.

“But…I don’t eat meat. It’s…just….wrong.”

“Cage free, cruelty free…whatever you like but definitely red meat.”

“Oh lord.”

“And start taking your pre-natal pills again.” the doctor sighed when he saw the look on Lucy’s face “Or you could stop breastfeeding.”

Noah turned to face the doctor.Lucy cradled his head though it appeared he was holding his neck just fine himself.

“He is very healthy but I’m afraid the opposite is true for you Mrs Leto.Let’s get a few pounds on you again. Gotta have you in tip top shape to handle such a big guy, right?” the doctor tickled Noah’s foot “… Ok?”

“Ok.”

“How is your mood? Are you having any negative thoughts?”

“I think I’m just very tired.I don’t have a lot of energy.” Lucy wasn’t about to admit how crazy her thoughts have been.How she sometimes scares herself with how out of control her own imagination has become.

“I understand.I think it might be better for both you and baby if you stop breastfeeding at this point.I’m worried about your heart too. Your blood pressure is quite low. I think you might want to consider hiring some help until you get some weight back on.I’m alarmed.”

As Lucy tried to absorb the doctor’s words, Noah began wailing.His hungry cry.Lucy felt conflicted about what to do.“He’s hungry.” she said and the doctor popped up and began opening cabinets looking for formula samples.“If you’re going to heed my advice, you might as well start now. The doctor found a premixed can of Infamil and a nipple and handed them to Lucy for Noah to drink.

Noah sucked the bottle down with gusto.

“He was hungry indeed.” the doctor noted then finished up his notes in the electronic patient file.“We’ll see you again in one month, ok?I want to see 10 pounds gained.Alright?”

“Ok.”

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2019/01/06/jareds-prodigy/feed/2postmodernquillShut up brain !https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/11/26/shut-up-brain/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/11/26/shut-up-brain/#respondMon, 26 Nov 2018 05:33:37 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5378She grabs an ice cold green tea from the subzero. It’s 3am now. Everything dark outside her windows, her reflection in the glass all she can see. She has become almost unrecognizable in the past year. Round. Ugly. Aged. She turns her back to the outside. Not proud of the new look. Sipping her green tea and debating turning on all the lights so she wont have to look at herself again. She’s not scared of the dark. She’s just scared of the dreams. The memories. They haunt her in the daylight just the same as the night. Her brain is her worst enemy. Replaying it over and over again. Trying to fix what cannot be fixed. Trying to understand what she will never comprehend. So many intrusive thoughts. She knows its the PTSD. She’s had it for four years now. Festering in her prefrontal cortex. A nightmare. One that grips her while she showers, makes dinner, drives her car, takes out the trash, records her patient’s vitals, grocery shops, vacuums the carpet, mows the lawn, talks to the teacher, zips up a coat, writes out a check, changes the sheets on her bed, vomits up her dinner…so intrusive that she screams out sometimes “Shut the fuck up brain!! Oh my god SHUT UP!! I don’t want to think about it anymore! I don’t want to think about it! Stop thinking about it! God dammit STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!” she shouts. Then she cries. She’s always crying. Or eating. Crying and eating. Trying to stay sane.

The flashbacks subside for a moment but her gut tells her he’s up to something. She can tell by his texts. Manufacturing evidence. He’s ready to attack again. Carefully biding his time until he files his next court case. Abuses her by proxy. The American court system is his patsy. His arm – the law. She’s never going to be rid of him. Not in this lifetime. But still she fantasizes about love. About a handsome man with ocean eyes. He’d protect her. Hold her at night. Stroke her hair while she shivers. Be her rock when she breaks down. Sing to her. Make her laugh. Try to impress her with his stories. Remind her that life is worth living.

His mere presence would knock her ex off his game. Force him in to submission. His intellect…his success…his desire for her proof that she’s not worthless. She’s somebody if she can catch Jared’s eye or better yet, his friendship. But it’s all just a fantasy really – one Jared refuses to fulfill anymore. He’s so distant. No longer a good escape. And the PTSD is so bad – so intrusive that she cries most days. In a place thats closed off from the world. Where she no longer listens to music. She just exists. Waiting for the next attack. Praying the next ten years fly by. Wishing her children’s childhood away so her ties to him will be over quicker. Not going to concerts. No trips with friends. Doing nothing because she feels like nothing. Just a punching bag filled with bad thoughts.

Her friends all abandoned her, in the worst time in her life. But she can’t really blame them. There’s only so many times you can say “Oh wow, he’s such an asshole!” before you start questioning her. And she feels all that. She knows thats what you’re thinking at the other end of the line. She must be exaggerating. She’s stretching the truth….he cant really be doing all the things he has done. He can’t keep getting away with it. But he did, and he does. And she’s angry at god, but he’s not listening either. He abandoned her too. Left her with these thoughts in her brain. Thoughts she doesn’t want to think. Memories she’s forced to relive. Puzzles she’ll never sort out. She prays for relief – assumes it will come when her children outgrow her. When her boys become men. There’d be no way left to hurt her then.

But she dreams nonetheless – of finding the California sun and starting over again. Pick up where 1992 ended and find herself. Find peace. Find Jared. And for a moment – just one – she’s ok. Until the next time her brain tells her to duck an imaginary fist. Until the next time a police officer is at the door. Until the next time she’s summoned to appear. Until the next time….and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time……and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…and the next time….and the next time….and the next time…

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/10/10/golden-opulence-sundae/feed/0postmodernquillOr…https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/or/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/or/#respondMon, 24 Sep 2018 02:29:10 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5340She knew she’d had a seizure the moment she woke back. All the telltale signs were there, the tiny cuts on her tongue and the inside of her cheek where her teeth gnashed and tore at the delicate flesh. The too familiar ache in her back. The wet sheets beneath her. She was embarrassed and she had no idea how long she’d been out of it.

She sat up slowly. Her back so sore…Jared was sitting across the room, in a reading chair, his head in his hands, fingers gripped tightly in his long hair.

“You’re awake” she said.

He looked up at her, dark circles around his eyes, red where the whites should be. He looked at her kindly and whispered “I’ve been up all night.”

“All night?” she asked.

“All night.” he confirmed.

“It was …bad?”

“Yes.” was all he said as he rose from his chair. “This one was real bad. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

She looked at the wetness around her and felt the pink settle high on her cheeks and her neck “I think I had an accident in the bed.”

“You did.” he said nonjudgementally. “Can you get up? I’ll strip the bed.”

“No! Don’t do that. I’ve got it.”

“Knock it off.”

She very carefully put both of her feet on the floor and sat at the end of the bed. One hand resting on the sorest part of her back, the other holding her steady.

“Are you mad?”

“Of course I’m not.”

“But you’re …”

“I’m just tired. Here let me help you to the bathroom so we can clean you up and salvage some sleep before the sun comes up.”

She let Jared lead her quietly to the master bathroom where he guided her down in to his soaking tub. He helped her disrobe as she sat on the floor of the tub. The water filled in around her and he tossed her clothes into a laundry basket.

“I’m so sorry this keeps happening.” she said.

Jared kissed her forehead and smoothed back a tendril of wet hair. “You have to go back on your medication.” he stated.

“But – ”

“There’s no but … you don’t see what I see…you have to go back on the medication….or…” he let his voice trail off. They’ve discussed “or” ad nauseam.

He loved her, more than he ever has loved another, but he’s scared of her. Of what her body does when they’re sleeping side by side in the night. What these seizures must be doing to the baby. He’s scared and that’s not an emotion that Jared feels very often. He’s not comfortable with the adrenaline that come with fear. He just wants everything to be ok. Normal. Even mundane. But there’s an elephant in the room….and a tumor in her brain….

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/or/feed/0postmodernquillRescue Mehttps://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/04/12/rescue-me-16/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/04/12/rescue-me-16/#respondThu, 12 Apr 2018 04:06:20 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5371perhaps you might enjoy a little flash back to my ficcy that happens to share a title with one of the songs on the new album ….

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/04/12/rescue-me-16/feed/0postmodernquillDangerous Nighthttps://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/01/26/dangerous-night/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/01/26/dangerous-night/#respondFri, 26 Jan 2018 17:55:15 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5368He doesn’t know what love is. His love hurts. It’s embarrassing and stifling and at times I can hardly breathe. He’s mean and he’s relentless and my whole body hurts. There are no words, just pain. No silence, just this ringing in my head that wont go away. I’m not sure why I begged for this. Why am I always begging. It started with a walk. Just a short one up our shared hill. Around our dry city. But now I’m under the ground, hiding from his love. Under a watchful eye and never ever alone. Be careful what you wish for because your dreams may come true. His dreams, dear dreamer, are nightmares. My dreams, dear dreamer, have come to fruition. Everything I ever asked for – I have. He wont let me go now. He’ll never let me go. He’s in love with me and I am afraid. Afraid of his attention. His unrelenting attention. His focus. His passion. His love.

“Careful … careful.” he whispers. “You don’t want the others to hear you … and be … jealous.”

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2018/01/26/dangerous-night/feed/0postmodernquillPenal Code 192(c)https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2017/02/19/penal-code-192c/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2017/02/19/penal-code-192c/#respondMon, 20 Feb 2017 04:36:39 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5248“She’s not breathing…no, no I tried that. She’s not breathing! Ok….I’m kneeling….I can’t hold the phone and do CPR….ok ok….” he passes his cellphone off to me, I fumble but manage to get it to my ear “Talk to them…” he insists. His blue eyes pleading.

Jared tilts the woman’s head back softly. Her mouth falls open. I look away.

I’m frozen. The scene in front of me is horrific. So much blood underneath her and there’s glass in her hair. Her body is directly on the pavement. Like in the middle of the goddamn street. And it’s so loud. I can’t even think straight. Why is it so loud? I can’t focus. I’m not good in a crisis. Never have been. Not that I have much experience. I have never been in the middle of anything like this before. I’m just not a strong person. No, not at all. My stomach is queasy. I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t throw up here. I shouldn’t even be here.

Somehow I manage to listen to the 911 operator and relay her instructions back to Jared. “They want you to push on her chest….they said you can’t hurt her…and count…each time you push…you count” I say.

“When do I give her the breath….two….three…four….when? …six … seven…eight…WHEN!” Jared shouts at me.

“She says you don’t do that part …just keep doing the compressions.”

“Put the call on speaker!” Jared demands and of course I comply.

The 911 operator repeats through the cellphone speaker what she previously said to me. Something about new guidelines and help is on the way. She instructs Jared to switch with me as soon as he begins to feel fatigue, but I know he wont. He has monkey strength and a resilience I most definitely do not have.

I put the phone down next to the woman. Closer so that Jared can hear the operator and the operator can hear him. He looks at me helplessly but he keeps giving the woman compressions. I am no help at all. I can’t even hold the phone for him. I begin to back away from the scene. I cannot be here when the police arrive. I cannot be here for a second longer. I have to get out of here. I have to.

A crowd has gathered, over my shoulder. The cars piling up. A traffic jam for sure. People want to help now. I want to disappear. Somehow melt in to the pavement. Evaporate. Pretend none of this is happening. That nothing happened.

I feel myself sway and someone catches me by the elbow.

“Are you ok?”

“No…” I say …and I really don’t remember anything after that but I’ve been told a Medivac came and went. Then an ambulance came for me. I remember that. So many questions. I forgot today’s date. Jared was furious. But the police said they’d interview me later. And that calmed him down. I’m probably in shock, they said. He seemed to appreciate that.

But I’m not in shock. I’m just feeling guilty.

If that woman dies, if she already has died … it’s all my fault.

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2017/02/19/penal-code-192c/feed/0postmodernquillCats in the cradle…https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2016/12/19/cats-in-the-cradle/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2016/12/19/cats-in-the-cradle/#respondTue, 20 Dec 2016 02:51:49 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5240Enjoy this blast from the past while we wait for cutie patootie to drop that new album

“Noah is quite the handsome little man isn’t he?” the doctor said as he kindly stroked the back of Noah’s head. “Just beautiful…but my dear what is going on with you? You’re gaunt….and 94 pounds. That’s not a healthy weight for a new mother. Especially not one who is breast feeding.”

Noah was alert and checking out the examination room from over Lucy’s shoulder. “I eat all day long.” she said as she shifted the baby from one shoulder to the other.

“We have a professional chef at the house.” Lucy said defensively “Lots of vegetables and I eat pasta….Lentils….fried rice. Healthy stuff. He makes me extra meals during the day because I am always so hungry. ”

“I assume you’re still Vegan?”

“Yes, but I get ample protein. I’ve been Vegan for twenty years. I know how to eat.”

“It doesn’t look like you are getting enough of the right foods required to maintain a healthy weight. How often is the baby feeding?”

“Every two hours. Give or take…”

The doctor’s line of questioning was insulting, as if Lucy didn’t know how to take care of herself, but Lucy wasn’t exactly upset. Defensive, but not angry. She knew her weight loss was dramatic and probably shocking to someone who last saw her when she was super preggo. It was understandable. And Lucy had to admit that she felt like complete shit lately. The weight loss was taking a toll on her, even though she was pretending for everyone else that it was a blessing to “pop back” to her old self so quickly. No one really knew she was 15 pounds lighter than she’d ever been.

Lucy didn’t blame her Vegan lifestyle for the weight loss though. It’s something else for sure. Lucy has been eating like a pig at a trough for weeks. Never seeming to go more than twenty minutes without feeling like she is going to starve to death if she doesn’t eat again…like immediately. She can’t get enough food in her, that’s the problem.

As the conversation continued, Lucy actually began to appreciate the doctor’s concern. It validated her own feelings and made her feel important again. Being Noah’s Mommy was a lot harder than she had anticipated. He’s high maintenance but she loves him. It’ll be better once he starts sleeping through the night. She’s sure of that. And once she’s not so tired anymore maybe she can get in to some sort of routine again where she’s out in the world instead of house bound. She’s lonely and kinda resentful of all the attention Noah gets from Jared. Attention that used to belong to Lucy and Lucy alone.

“I’d like to do some blood work but I’d also like you to eat some meat.” the doctor was saying.

“But…I don’t eat meat. It’s…just….wrong.”

“Cage free, cruelty free…whatever you like but definitely red meat.”

“Oh lord.”

“And start taking your pre-natal pills again.” the doctor sighed when he saw the look on Lucy’s face “Or you could stop breastfeeding.”

Noah turned to face the doctor. Lucy cradled his head though it appeared he was holding his neck just fine himself.

“He is very healthy but I’m afraid the opposite is true for you Mrs Leto. Let’s get a few pounds on you again. Gotta have you in tip top shape to handle such a big guy, right?” the doctor tickled Noah’s foot “… Ok?”

“Ok.”

“How is your mood? Are you having any negative thoughts?”

“I think I’m just very tired. I don’t have a lot of energy.” Lucy wasn’t about to admit how crazy her thoughts have been. How she sometimes scares herself with how out of control her own imagination has become.

“I understand. I think it might be better for both you and baby if you stop breastfeeding at this point. I’m worried about your heart too. Your blood pressure is quite low. I think you might want to consider hiring some help until you get some weight back on. I’m alarmed.”

As Lucy tried to absorb the doctor’s words, Noah began wailing. His hungry cry. Lucy felt conflicted about what to do. “He’s hungry.” she said and the doctor popped up and began opening cabinets looking for formula samples. “If you’re going to heed my advice, you might as well start now. The doctor found a premixed can of Infamil and a nipple and handed them to Lucy for Noah to drink.

Noah sucked the bottle down with gusto.

“He was hungry indeed.” the doctor noted then finished up his notes in the electronic patient file. “We’ll see you again in one month, ok? I want to see 10 pounds gained. Alright?”

“Ok.”

]]>https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2016/11/25/jared-and-lucy-2/feed/0postmodernquillJared and Lucyhttps://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2016/11/18/jared-and-lucy/
https://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/2016/11/18/jared-and-lucy/#respondSat, 19 Nov 2016 03:53:05 +0000http://postmodernquill.wordpress.com/?p=5129They had no idea, on that bright sunny morning, that the birth of their first child, a son they named Noah Joseph, would open the door for such unbelievable heartache. How could they?

Lucy’s labor was predictable. The birth, smooth. And she was recovering well. Within an hour or two she was up and about. Shuffling her slippered feet back and forth from the bathroom to the layette to her hospital bed again without complaint. She felt well enough to shower and now the happy couple were receiving their first visitors.

The perfectly pink full-term boy was exceptionally alert for his first hours on earth. Delighting well wishers with his big blue eyes that seemed to focus intently on each relative as though he recognized each and every one of them from some other time and place.

“He’s probably fixing on the reflection coming off your glasses. He can only see a few inches in front of him right now.” Jared said as he held his arms out to receive Noah. “That’s your Uncle Raj.” Jared whispered to Noah once he had him snuggled in the crook of his arm again. “He was born yesterday and you were born today.” he teased.

Lucy watched Jared show Noah around the room. Beaming with pride at their creation. Their friends and loved ones leaning in to peek at Noah’s bright face or cradling him for a moment in their own arms. Jared either had Noah or a bottle of hand sanitizer in his hands. Ready with a squirt for anyone who wanted to so much as touch the blanket Noah was bundled in. Protective new Pop. Lucy felt her love for Jared grow deeper in those moments there. She had made him a Daddy. And he was good at it. So far at least. It was a special morning for everyone. Jared’s first child, a son no one ever thought he’d have. Born almost 9 months to the day after Jared married Lucy on a cliffside in Capri. She’s almost 20 years Jared’s junior but his equal in many other ways. A career of her own. A name too.

Every one who held Noah that morning commented on his beauty. A perfect blend of his model mother and his handsome Oscar winning father. Blue eyes. Bright blond tuffs of hair. Pink skin. Amazing temperament.

“Does he ever cry?” someone asked kindly.

“He’s just chillin'”

“My kinda kid.”

“You would end up with a baby that never cries wouldn’t you?”

“He’s an old soul.” Grandma Constance added and everyone agreed.

What a blessed addition to the world. Ten fingers, ten toes. A life full of promise and good health just waiting for him. Jared and Lucy were so proud. Look at what their love created. A perfect little boy. That everyone is immediately in love with.

Lucy yawned big and then quickly laughed at herself. “Sorry guys.” she said through a smile. “It’s not you, it’s me.” more giggling “I haven’t slept in like three days.”

Grandma took Noah from the arms of one of the couple’s friends and placed him softly into Lucy’s outstretched arms. “I think he might need lunch and then you both should rest.” she said kindly.

Everyone took the cue and shuffled out of the room with pats on Jared’s back and well wishes to Lucy. Once everyone was gone, Constance helped Lucy get reading for the feeding, propping a pillow beneath her elbow and a pillow at her waist.. Jared stayed back, watching the girls bond over Noah’s first latch. It was a sight to see. So precious.

“Ouch.” Lucy said as Noah latched on “Is it supposed to – Ouch! ….hurt?”

“Sometimes it’s because they latch on wrong … let’s try and reposition him.” Grandma Constance slipped her finger in to the side of Noah’s mouth to break his suction and his eyes snapped up at her as if he were chastising her. Constance was taken aback for a moment, not quite sure what in the hell she just saw. As quickly as the expression appeared, it disappeared and Constance scolded herself for assigning such a grown-up expression to the face of a newborn. He wanted his boobie back. That’s all. She gently repositioned Noah’s head and he latched back on to Lucy. But she couldn’t stop thinking about that quick shift in his eyes. Too weird. Too grown up.

“That’s a lot better.” Lucy sighed looking down on her boy. “Thank you.” She said before she looked up at Constance.

“Are you ok?” she asked Constance a moment later. “You’re white as a sheet!”

“Oh! I’m fine. Maybe I need a little rest too. I’m seeing things.”

“Seeing things? That’s not good.” Jared joked.

Constance shook her head as she spoke, fully aware of how nutty her words sounded “I think Noah was just mad at me…”

“What?” Lucy responded. “Mad at you?”

“Yeah Ma. I think you do need some sleep. He’s not mad at anyone. He’s like six hours old.”

“He gave me this look….”

“Sure he did.” Jared ushered his mother over to the couch in their hospital suite. “Maybe you should take a nap too.”

“Yeah.”

Lucy starred down at the bundle in her arms and watched him feed. His eyes were shutting slowly and her nipple was falling out of his mouth. In a moment he was fast asleep with a full belly.

“Do you want me to put him in the bassinet so you can sleep?” Jared whispered.

Lucy nodded quietly but when he went to grab Noah, Noah’s eyes flipped open quickly and he let out his first cry. A painful wail that upset everyone all at once.